


The Fly

by tsuki_llama



Series: The Office [18]
Category: Darker Than Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: What does it take for an assassin to be taken seriously?
Series: The Office [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/483635
Comments: 39
Kudos: 185





	The Fly

**Author's Note:**

> It has been a while since I've posted anything, I know - that wasn't intentional, but 2020 was kicking my rear even before this whole global pandemic thing, and unfortunately I just haven't gotten any writing done. Hopefully that will change; while we are all staying safe at home, here's a quick little something to keep you entertained!

“Look, I’ve got more experience than you - that’s all I’m saying!”

“And experience counts for jack shit if you didn’t actually achieve the objective! Is all _I’m_ saying!”

“Objective? I was never made, was I? That’s the most important thing -”

“Getting the info is the most important thing! You know Li would agree with me!”

Hei, unfortunately, chose that moment to enter Section Four’s conference room. He could have turned around, of course - but strategic retreat wasn’t exactly easy when a tray of hot tea and coffee, a notebook, and a ballpoint pen were occupying both his hands and all his balance. Instead he braced himself and let the door swing shut behind him.

“Agree with what?” he asked cautiously, setting the tray down on the large table. Kouno, Saitou, and Matsumoto were all there already, in their usual seats. Ootsuka was out sick, which meant they were just waiting on Misaki.

“The Black Barista - Reaperista? - strikes again!” Kouno leaned in and snagged the green mug before Saitou could try for it. “What’s the most important part of undercover work? Is it just not getting caught, or is it getting the information you needed in the first place?”

“You could get every top secret document there is and it wouldn’t matter if you end up dead,” Saitou countered. He retrieved the red mug and frowned at the giant chip on the rim. “Right, Li?”

Hei glanced over at Matsumoto, but the older detective was simply sitting with his arms folded, listening.

He set one of the two teacups in front of Matsumoto, who nodded his thanks, and took the other one for himself. The blue and white mug, full to the brim with black coffee, he set in front of Misaki’s empty place. “Um, well, both are good.”

Kouno snorted. “ _Obviously_ both are good - but which one is better?”

“Is this about the Gatou case?” Hei asked. A housefly was buzzing around the sugar bowl, he noticed. Annoyed, he waved it away.

“Of course!” Kouno leaned forward. “Who’s the Chief sending in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, you can tell us, man!” Saitou put in.

Hei flipped his notebook open to the next clean page and set the pen on top, ready. He was getting much better at taking notes; despite ample proof to the contrary, Misaki still didn’t quite believe that he could remember all of the details from a debriefing without writing it down. He’d noticed that if he _pretended_ to write things down, she was happier. She couldn’t read his handwriting regardless, so it didn’t matter what he actually wrote.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t know. We don’t talk about work at home.”

Matsumoto snorted. “Really boys, what did you expect from the Chief?”

“Um, that literally all she talks about is work?” Kouno said. The fly was buzzing near his coffee now; he shooed it absently.

“Sorry,” Hei said with a shrug.

In actuality, she _did_ talk about their cases quite often; what she _didn’t_ talk about was their team. It was a line that both of them were firm on. The other members of Section Four were Hei’s colleagues, and Misaki’s direct reports. Talking to Misaki about them felt too close to informing, no matter how innocuous the subject; in any case, how could the team trust Hei if they thought he might be reporting on them, however casually? It meant that he had to wait along with everyone else for assignments - but he was well used to waiting.

“So what do you think?” Kouno continued. “Who should get it?” He waved at the fly again, which veered away to buzz past Saitou’s nose, startling the detective.

“You mean going undercover at the prison? Um…”

Saitou swatted angrily at the fly, missing it by a foot. “Look, someone has to get close to Gatou, right? Which means that whoever goes in needs to be able to talk to him - get him to trust them, believe that they won’t squeal on him.”

“And _part_ of that trust is respect,” Kouno said, emphasizing his point by jabbing his index finger at the table. “He’s gotta respect that they’re a _criminal_ , just like him! They can’t be afraid to rough up a few guys to get the point across.”

“And no one actually has to get hurt if the threat is believable enough! Come on, Kouno, between you and me, who’s the most believable as a tough?”

Matsumoto cleared his throat loudly, cutting off Kouno’s retort. “You asked Li for his opinion, but neither one of you has shut up long enough to hear it. So, lad, what do you think? Which of these chuckleheads has what they’ll need on this case?”

“Um,” Hei repeated, looking between the two men and wondering how to give his honest opinion. “Well, when I met Saitou for the first time it was when he was undercover on the catering service at Qing Long Tang’s hotel. He had no problem getting in and all the other staff liked him.”

“See!” Saitou puffed up his chest.

“But I made you as a cop right away,” Hei confessed. “That’s why I introduced myself in the first place. To find out why you were there and if there were any other cops.”

Kouno laughed. “And did he tell you?”

“Not in so many words. But, um, yeah. I figured out you were there on a fishing expedition for a contractor who was working for Qing Long Tang, that the Chief was the other cop, and that she was your boss.”

“I didn’t tell you any of that!”

Hei shrugged. “No, but it was obvious from the way you stood, and how you kept making excuses to go stand by doors or to talk to the Chief. If it makes you feel any better, she was pretty obvious too. I mean, _she_ wasn’t trying to hide who she was, but still. I didn’t need any confirmation to know I was right.”

The fly was back at the sugar bowl. Hei briefly considered sending an electric spark its way, but he really didn’t need Kouno calling him the Human Bug Zapper at every debriefing now. The Black Reaperista was bad enough.

“See?” Kouno said. “Yeah, you can look tough if you try hard enough, but there’s no way anyone’ll believe you’re anything but a cop. Me, on the other hand - I did a whole month in the Nagata gang to bust that black market doll ring. No ever suspected I wasn’t a lowlife just like them!”

“Is that really something to be proud of, Kouno,” Saitou asked, crossing his arms.

“The Nagatas were petty crooks,” Hei added. “Cheating at cards isn’t going to get you anywhere with someone like Gatou.”

“Come on, I’m a damn good cardshark!”

“Your sleight of hand isn’t bad, but you tap your fingers whenever you’re bluffing and you fidget with your sleeve when have a winning hand.”

“Uh huh,” Kouno said over Saitou’s laughter. “So why don’t you beat me at every poker game, if that’s the case?”

“Because winning every hand would be like trying to go undercover using my own name. It’s too obvious.”

Saitou abruptly stopped laughing. “So what’s the verdict?” he asked with a cough. “Who’s better for this case, me or Kouno?”

“Um,” Hei said, looking between the two of them, “Actually, I had assumed it would be me.”

To his complete surprise, both men burst out laughing.

“Don’t look so offended, Li,” Saitou said, waving the fly out of his face again.

“Yeah,” Kouno added. “We _know_ you’re a good liar, obviously -”

“And that you have the skills to look after yourself in a prison full of criminals -”

“But come on - there’s no way Gatou would ever believe that you’re one of them.”

Hei blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, that friendly neighborhood waiter schtick might get you onto kitchen duty at Fuchu, but what are you going to do to impress Gatou? Threaten him with a ladle?”

“I killed a man with a ladle once,” Hei said dully. For some reason, that just made Saitou and Kouno laugh harder.

“I’ll admit you were pretty scary at the Qing hotel,” Saitou said, “but that’s the point - it’s not like you can go to prison wearing your Black Reaper mask.”

“I’ve infiltrated a dozen high security compounds…”

“Yeah, you told us about Pandora,” Kouno said. “You were what, a janitor?”

“You never actually knew me when I was just Hei,” he realized suddenly. Not many people had, of course; only his handlers and the occasional team member - and those had been few and far between. His squad members from the South American conflicts would not have questioned his ability to blend in with hardened criminals for a second.

After all these months of trying to fit in with Section Four, why was it so irritating that his new team members didn’t believe him?

The other three men stared at him quizzically. “Just Hei?” Matsumoto asked. “What do you mean by that?”

Hei shrugged, eyes watching the fly buzz past the table; an idea was beginning to form in his mind. “Just that I was a different person, before I decided to try and live like a normal human again. You wouldn’t have doubted that I was dangerous, if you’d met me through the Syndicate.”

“That sounds like some psychoanalysis B.S.,” Kouno said, waving a hand airily. “That’s not going to get you anywhere with Gatou.”

As Kouno and Saitou launched back into a renewed argument, Hei let his posture slowly relax, his eyes becoming hooded, gaze fixed on the pen and paper in front of him. He imagined that it was Huang sitting across the table from him, delivering another covert assignment. He was just _Hei_ again; Hei, the Black Reaper. Not Li Hei, reformed assassin turned police officer.

“You rely on that leather jacket too much,” Saitou was telling Kouno. “It makes you _appear_ tough, but you wouldn’t have that in prison. You’d look like everyone else in those jumpsuits.”

In a deliberate movement, Hei picked up the ballpoint pen and leaned slightly forward on his elbows, pen poised between his two hands. He began unscrewing the barrel. The muscles of his jaw relaxed, leaving him completely expressionless.

Saitou cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him, while Kouno said, “It’s just a matter of body language. _You_ have all the body language of a lamppost.”

Hei carefully removed the ink reservoir from the pen and set it to the side of the pad of paper. He nudged it so that it was perfectly parallel, then set one half of the barrel next to it.

“Uh, something wrong with your pen?” Kouno asked with a frown.

“And what’s with that face?” Saitou added.

Hei ignored them, just like he’d always ignored Huang when his former handler had been delivering yet another lecture about staying within the mission brief. Hei didn’t care what the brief said; if a contractor needed killing, then he’d kill him.

There was a thin metal spring in the other half of the barrel. Hei withdrew it delicately, setting the barrel alongside the other pieces of the pen.

“Don’t listen to these idiots,” Matsumoto was telling him now. “They didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Yeah,” Saitou said, a touch of hesitation in his voice. “We were just giving you a hard time, Li - you know that, right?”

Hei had never killed anyone with a pen before. Idly he wondered what would be the best way. The nib of a ballpoint wasn’t exactly sharp, but with enough force it could be driven into the brain through the ear or an eye. Then again, the ink reservoir was fairly flimsy. It might not hold up to his grip. Contemplating the wire spring, he pressed two fingers together and began to straighten it out.

Kouno lowered his voice. “Saitou, what’s he doing? What’s with that look?”

“It’s like…his whole face went empty,” Saitou muttered back. “Even contractors look friendlier than that.”

Matsumoto didn’t say anything, but Hei sensed him shifting his weight slightly away.

The fly landed in front of Kouno; he waved it away absently.

Hei smoothed out the last coil of the spring; the piece of wire was now about four inches long. He tapped the end carefully. Sharp enough.

“What, uh, what are you going do with that, buddy?” Kouno asked tentatively. “Look, we really were just teasing you…”

Hei took a pinch of sugar from the bowl and sprinkled the grains on the paper in front of him. Then, wire poised between his thumb and index finger, he rested his elbow on the table.

And waited.

No one in the room spoke. Without looking up, Hei could sense that all eyes were on him. He wasn’t used to being _watched_ while he staked out a target; it set his instincts tingling, and he had to force himself to keep focused rather than seek out a quick exit.

But if he had to…he could be up on the table and into the drop-tile ceiling in seconds. If he had to.

The fly was buzzing around his face now. He didn’t move; he hardly breathed.

“What -” Saitou began just as the fly landed on a grain of sugar.

_BAM!_

Everyone around the table jumped nearly out of their chairs. Ignoring them still, Hei lifted his hand.

Skewered on the end of the metal wire was the fly. It twitched feebly.

Hei finally allowed himself to look up, keeping his face carefully blank. Kouno was staring at him, eyes wide; Saitou, green-faced, was focused on the fly. Matsumoto had frozen with his teacup halfway to his mouth.

“Alright, sorry I’m late.”

Everyone jumped again as Misaki bustled into the room. She took her usual seat and lifted her coffee mug - then she stared out across the table with a frown. “What’s wrong with all of you? And why, exactly, are you destroying department property?”

That last accusation was directed at Hei, jolting him back to the present. “Uh,” he said, blinking with the mental shift. “There was a fly…” Realizing the wire was still held between his fingers, he dropped it.

“That’s no excuse to ruin a perfectly good pen.” With a shake of her head, Misaki flipped open a folder in front of her. “Now, about the Gatou case -”

“Li can have it,” Kouno said quickly.

“Yeah,” Saitou said, “He’d be perfect!”

Misaki raised an eyebrow. “Since when do _you_ make assignments? Matsumoto,” she said, turning to the older man, “you spent some time undercover several years ago in the Uchiyama family, while Gatou was still just an under-lieutenant, right?”

“That’s right, Chief.”

“Do you think he’d remember you, if you dusted off your old cover?”

Matsumoto shrugged. “Probably. Uchiyama sent us on a couple jobs together.”

“Perfect. The assignment’s yours.”

“What?” Saitou and Kouno both exclaimed together. Hei just stared, dumbfounded.

Misaki frowned at them. “That’s my decision; don’t argue.” Then her gaze shifted to the fly, still twitching on the pad of paper in front of Hei. She wrinkled her nose. “And clean that up; that’s disgusting.”


End file.
